Kill Who You Want

Chapter Ten

"Tell me now, over the phone."

He paused for a moment. "Doesn't feel right. I need to tell you to your face."

"Tomorrow then, at school."

"Won't be in tomorrow neither." He winced, bracing himself for the earthquake that was about to erupt. "Done with school see."

"What?"

"I said I'm done with done with school, okay?" The bloody place had always seemed a waste of time. Particularly so now.

"But we talked about this Nathan. I can help you. Pass a couple of GCSEs and they'll let you do that sound engineering course at tecnical college."

He'd never realised just how heavy she could be. Worse than the teachers. Worse than Miss effing Booth.

"Lunchtime tomorrow. Meet you at the swings near school."

And with that he quickly swiped the call to an end before she had chance to refuse.

*

The list already numbered five by the time they got to class 4C. Five high-risk individuals who matched some or all of criteria the detective sergeant had a little earlier outlined. Though no-one wanted to admit it out loud, preferring instead much more euphemistic expressions, the bottom line was clear: these were pupils deemed to be potentially capable of murder.

As 4C's form teacher, all eyes had now turned to Maureen Booth.

"Well there's Edwardson I suppose..."

As with previous suggestions, it was greeted by a general murmur of discussion. The voice which cut over the chatter belonged to Lydia Collins.

"For those of you unacquainted, we're talking dyslexia, dyscalculia and dysgraphia."

"All the dys-es," commented Duncan Hinchcliffe.

"Disintetested. Disrespectful." This from the perenially tracksuited PE teacher Mike Treen.

A glare made clear Collins' lack of amusement. For Christ's sake, thought Maureen, they were only trying to lighten the mood a little. The Lord alone knew they were all a little strained. For someone whose lessons often resembled riot zones, the woman was quite intolerably pompous at times.

"His father left home several years ago," Collins continued, "started another family with someone else. Stepdad in and out of prison, low-level dope dealer. Mother as good as absent."

Though Maureen had of course herself been aware of Nathan's less than happy home situation, to hear it outlined so explicitly like that had a certain effect. She felt a prick of some emotion she vaguely recognised as guilt. The way she'd joined in with the general class laughter during first period the previous day. A dozen other minor acts of disrespect.

"He's got a little brother," Collins went on. "Someone he feels he has to protect, like the detective said."

Alan Peters turned to Maureen.

"Vulnerable enough to be added to the list you feel?"

She sighed, gave a sombre nod.

"Poor sod, yes."

*

As Kubič drove home that evening, the number of quickly scuttling figures he passed on the streets could have been counted on the fingers of one hand. Lights were out at the King's Head, the nearby kebab shop too. It felt almost as if the curfew had been extended to all, not just the under sixteens. Illogical really, he thought. If anything was going to happen it was just as likely to happen during daylight hours as under the cover of the night. Human nature, he supposed. What was that thing his grandfather used to say? V noci kazda kocka cerna. All cats are black at night.